White Girls Like You

**still no luck putting up photos but I'm taking lots so stay tuned!**

During the election they put us up in a NICE hotel – like, nice by international standards, not just nice for Bolivia. Of course, the hot showers were cold and the sauna was closed and the food at first was almost sans vegetables until we complained, but hey. The beds were comfortable; the pool was fabulous and I got to play beach volleyball and learn to salsa dance.

Most importantly, I met some of the most amazing people. I can put it very simply: everybody dances, in that cheesy “I hope you dance” sort of way. We are diverse and talented, funny and fun, driven and successful. We are in love with our lives. The collective knowledge, pride and creativity of this group makes me feel so blessed to be a part of it, and intensely patriotic. This is America in Bolivia, and it is awesome.

All 120 or so of us were consolidated for about a week; we were especially grateful to be there after hearing about what happened in Georgia (invaded by Russia; luckily all of the volunteers were located and evacuated soon afterward). It was a reminder to us that as tranquil as it seems, we do live in a developing country that can and will be unpredictable at times.

For example, we had to stumble through tear gas to get to dinner in Santa Cruz the other day. Our eyes burned; our throats ached and we struggled to breathe. We walked down Calle Arenales with our heads bowed down like a herd of horses in the wind. We were far enough from the actual event; it started several blocks away where a group of disabled people was on a hunger strike. From what I understand, the president had promised them a government compensation of about 3,000bs per year (about $450, not even a livable amount). No one got paid.

The police came with tear gas; the people began to attack with crutches and throw things from wheelchairs. The sad part is that the police themselves are underpaid and probably completely agree with their supposed opponents. I only hope nobody saw anything about this on the news internationally; I can’t even imagine what the world would think. I want to tell you it’s not like that, but I’ll have to settle for, there are great things about Bolivia so don’t close your eyes just yet. It is young and impetuous and eventually, that energy will be channeled in the right direction. At least, I hope so.

* * * *

I was away from my site just more than two weeks. Our project design workshop took place in the city after consolidation and one of my professor-friends from Gutiérrez came to be my work counterpart. I wasn’t sure if bringing a professor was the right choice, as teachers (especially women) don’t have a lot of power here. My fears proved unfounded. Rosa not only held her ground among the representatives from local governments and school officials, but she impressed both our workshop facilitators and me more than once. I was so proud of her!

During one of our last lunches together, I was sitting with Rosa, Carla and Christa (our awesome facilitators, and they were technical trainers from before so I knew them), and several other orphaned work counterparts whose volunteers had lunched elsewhere … so basically a table full of Bolivians and me, though I hadn’t thought about it that way at the time. We were joking (in Spanish) about my lack of a love life and other ridiculous things when Carla, who has worked with probably more than a thousand volunteers, grabbed my arm, looked me in the eye and said, “You know what? I love gringas like you.”

“Umm … thanks?”
“Really,” she said, shaking her head. “No todos son asi.” Literally: not everyone is so.

Later, my host family called. First Don Yonny put Leona on the phone (his idea; he says her tail was wagging like crazy). Then I chatted with my little brother, Sair. My other brother, Jhonnicito (the annoying one) stole the phone and the first thing he said was, “te extraño.” I miss you. Not wanting to waste all of their phone credit, which is expensive here, and very much wanting to finish my lunch, I asked Don Yonny to say hello to Doña Vicky for me. No such luck; in half a second she was on the phone and asking all about my trip. My reluctance to return to site abated more than slightly.

Once my friend Gina told me that after being here a year, her biggest accomplishment was that her town liked her. While politically this country might never like “us,” I feel like the people in my town (plus my very extended host family, Peace Corps staff, taxi drivers, the owners of the hotel in Santa Cruz and the waiters at my favorite restaurant) already most certainly like me -- not a bad goal at all.